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Updated: June 12, 2025
As the night advanced, the wind increased, and the dhow made rapid way through the water, steering after Adair's prize. No moon was shining, clouds gathered in the sky, and the night became darker than usual in those latitudes.
He had dispatched Adair for the doctor, and, after spending a few minutes prowling restlessly about his room, was now standing at his front gate, waiting for Adair's return. It came about, therefore, that Mike, sprinting lightly in the direction of home and safety, had his already shaken nerves further maltreated by being hailed, at a range of about two yards, with a cry of "Is that you, Adair?"
For it seemed almost to imply that if he could not, she might at the end of it, perhaps, give to him the answer for which he longed. He allowed a few days to pass, and then called again at Mrs. Adair's house. But he found only Mrs. Adair. Ethne had left London and returned to Donegal. She had left rather suddenly, Mrs. Adair told him, and Mrs.
Adair dismissed from her thoughts. She knew very well that Ethne was not of the kind which quarrels, nor would she escape by running away, should she be entangled in a quarrel. But something still more singular occurred. Durrance continued to speak in that room from which Ethne had escaped. The sound of his voice reached Mrs. Adair's ears, though she could not distinguish the words.
Two of the strongest and most active seamen were on the poop ready to heave the lines on board. Adair's voice was heard above the gale, shouting, "Down with the helm shorten sail!" In an instant the topmen were on the yards, the staysails were hauled down, and, the brig luffing up, the Gauntlet moved slowly ahead, while the hawsers were rapidly hauled on board.
It was at the close of a day of incessant rain, in the month of September of that year, or it may, perhaps, have been of the year following, that a young man, of somewhere about five-and-twenty years of age, respectably dressed, with a stick in his hand, and a small leathern bundle under his arm, presented himself at the door of Robert Adair's house, and knocked for admittance.
Adair will not write a pamphlet, or express himself too openly concerning the Crimes Act. The question of the day is the organization of the Land Act, and I hear that Mr. Gladstone says it will be impossible to get on without Mr. Adair's assistance. 'Every six months, said Mrs.
In the next moment, Adair's left hand was busily employed in undoing the knee buttons of his small clothes. Another powerful yawn, and he proceeded to perform the same operation on his right leg.
He was looking past her at a girl from home, who came across the terrace carrying in her hand a stenographer's note-book. Lady Firth followed the direction of his eyes and saw the look in them. She exclaimed with dismay: "Already! Already he deserts me, even before the ink is dry on the paper." She drew the note-book from Mrs. Adair's fingers and dropped it under the tea-table.
Jack accompanied Murray on board to dinner, and Adair, of course, was asked to join them. It was the first time for several years that they had been together with time to talk over old days. Though now and then a shade of melancholy came over Jack's honest face, a joke of Adair's, or some pleasant recollection conjured up by Murray, quickly banished it, and a very pleasant evening they had.
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